Oh man, I did it. Posted uh… my first few words. On royalroad. The fiction is still pending for approval, but still. Posted it.

And now I’m all anxious. “Will this even get approved ? It’s only a few words… Oh man, I can’t wait…”. So, yeah, the excitation and anxiety are right out there.

And now I’m all like “yeah, my plan was to write this a bit during your holidays, but in the end it’s only a few words, what am I gonna do ?”.

Because my holidays end tomorrow. So now I kind of feel like it’s a tall endeavour. Sure, I can just go back to it later, but what if people like it ?

I still need to study and live…

I should probably ask other authors I know, but I’m not the type to share my problems.

“But you just need to do it !”, you might exclaim internally, but it just blocks. I can’t seem to do it, most of the time.

Or maybe I’m too fixated on the times I fail to do so, reducing my confidence in this area.

My confidence in the social domain is low anyway.

It really is an awful wait…

I haven’t even finished my homework, and I’m there being anxious about of a fiction.

It isn’t even that serious.

Might even be more of a way to vent, or to think out things.

Ah, my anxiety for it all is too high… I need to decompress.

Let’s go read~ I guess.

But I kinda still want to write…

I guess what I wanted to express was I don’t know what I’m going into, and I don’t feel very confident about of myself here.

It’s my major issue, really. So I’m just going all whiny about of it on a fiction, intended for people to read by myself… Pathetic.

But it doesn’t really matter. I can worry all I want about of all of this, it won’t hasten anything, or finish my homework for me.

Procrastination is a demon, and I seem to be one of it’s numerous hosts.

In fact, let me try to write you a poem :

///////////////

When you wake, so does it.

It follows you everywhere.

It has claimed your poor soul.

What is it ?

It is a disease on the mind.

A part of your self.

Never separate from you,

Never far from your conscious,

Never fully hidden.

It is laziness, it is sloth.

It slows you, it slays you.

It delays you, it follows you.

///////////////

Yeah, wasn’t too good of a poem, but eh, it was written in a few minutes and I haven’t even tried to really improve it, to trim off the excess and add to it.

I can’t be bothered to try and do so.

Ironically, as I said, procrastination is a part of you, an instinct.

So if you procrastinate too much…

The only one you can really blame is yourself.

I think I’ll stop here. Have a good day-night cycle.